


double egded.

by romanticsteggy



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 19:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18239351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticsteggy/pseuds/romanticsteggy
Summary: bucky isn't the soldier anymore, but that doesn't mean he’s not still healing. you are just trying your best to mend him with everything you have, but sometimes that just isn't good enough.





	double egded.

**Author's Note:**

> i posted this on tumblr last year and honestly HATED IT. i debated on deleting it for a long time bc i thought it was detrivative and boring (which maybe it is lol). but today i reread it after someone reblogged it and was like "hey! this actually isn't half bad!" so in my endless search for feedback and attention, i am now posting this here!

It was getting worse. Things had been so fucking good, and now they were falling apart at the seams.

It felt like your fault, no matter how selfish it sounded. You had gotten so used to praising his achievements, that you had unintentionally put blinders on to the red flags. It felt so nice to not have to cover your sobs with shaking palms. It felt good to really mean your words when you told people things were going well. It felt amazing to truly believe he was getting better.

It was selfish to feel sorry for yourself when he was crumbling.

The nightmares were back and with a vengeance. When you finally managed to wake him, it’d take him minutes, sometimes even upwards of an hour, for him to come back to himself. To start believing your faux calm words about who he was, where he was and why he was there. He would only see in black and white, to him everything was dark and dripping with HYDRA. When he’d finally calm down, he’d become a trembling fawn, collapsing and cowering into himself. He wouldn't let you console him, hissing if your fingers brushed his skin, and that was if he even let you get close enough.

“Please, stay back.”

His words were a mixture of the authoritative sergeant and the panicked whimperings of the man in front of you.

You’d do your best to comfort him from afar, but it was no use. His eyes reflected layers of pain, torture and regret. You tried to to shoo it all away, to speak softly and sweetly, to reassure him everything was fine, the soldier was gone and HYDRA wasn't a threat to him anymore. But the more you talked the more you realized it all fell on deaf ears.

In the morning, after one or both of you (usually you) would pass out from emotional exhaustion, Bucky would keep his distance. Nodding to you in greeting and keeping interactions short and speaking only briefly.

It broke your heart so deeply that you felt it decay and sputter out in your chest. You loved Bucky more than you could put into words, often saying that the English language had not come up with a strong enough word to describe how you truly felt about him. And not being able to help him, someone who always made you feel cherished, loved and safe, made you feel positively useless. You’d never felt more helpless. You had been given two hands to soothe and love him, and they lay limp and wasted at your sides.

He was becoming more and more lost in himself, in old memories. You could practically see his mind setting up a projector and playing them for him on a loop. Blood, carnage, the harsh crack of bone and slice of flesh. And all by his hands.

When you first started to notice this thousand mile stare, you’d place a gentle hand on his shoulder, something he usually would lean into. He had grown to revel in your touch, finding home when you were wrapped around him.

“It makes it all fall away, and then there’s only you. And fuck, do I like when I only see you.”

But now, he’d recoil like your skin was made from acid. He’d scramble to his feet and give you a look between embarrassed guilt and terrified preservation. It didn't matter which it was, it always ended with him fleeing the room.

Things came to a head when Bucky attacked an agent for speaking to abruptly after a bout of silence. If Steve and Tony weren’t both there to pry him away, there was no doubt to anyone that Bucky would have killed the poor kid.

“Tony wants to pull him from the field,” Steve spoke flatly. He’d called you to his office after they had gotten Bucky as calm as they could.

“It probably wouldn't be a bad idea.” You solemnly replied.

“Yeah, I said the same thing.” Steve’s eyes were glued to the floor, “It’s just… he was getting better! He was getting better. What the hell happened?”

You gave a half hearted shrug, “Beats me. One day he kissed me goodbye for work, and when I came home he wouldn't even look me in the eyes.”

“I thought you were going to help, be my eyes on the inside! Tell me when things started to get worse!” You jolted in your seat at Steve’s voice.

It took you so long to reply, eyes darting around his face, that his words hung chillingly in the air.

“Steve, I had no idea! I just told you I thought everything was fine.” You wished your voice had been strong, but it wavered like a child defending themselves to a volatile parent.

“I was just doing the best I could, I thought I was helping.”

“Yeah? Apparently not good enough.” He spat back at you.

Your mouth hung open, shocked at his words. Bucky was Steve’s best friend, his family. It was natural for him to lash out at the thought of losing him again. You were the clear choice to unleash his rage on, the woman who swore to protect and love Bucky no matter what, and was failing miserably.

You tried to find your voice again, doing your best to swallow the uncomfortable lump growing in your throat, but it was no use.

Reaching to your bag that was sat at your feet, you sniffled quietly and nodded at the Captain’s words, fleeing before he could see the tears burn your cheeks.

As you drove to your small apartment, you couldn't help but take Steve’s words to heart. Maybe you really hadn't been trying hard enough, but if you weren't, what the hell were you supposed to do? You had thought positive reinforcement and your undying love was going to be enough to help Bucky get better. It was no cure to his alignments, but it was the best you could do with your means, right? If it wasn't, what was? Cotteling him like a child? Forcing his hand when it came to external help? Not letting him do field work when he decided he was ready? You had no idea where to begin to diagnose your shortcomings in this situation. There weren’t exactly a book on how best to help your brainwashed assassin boyfriend.

**

It felt like forever since you’d been to your apartment. You had all but moved in with Bucky at the Compound, but kept your apartment in the vain of your indepence, and maybe now that you thought about it, a secured blanket as well. Bucky had asked you more times than you couldn't count to just move in with him, but you always declined.

“But just think about it! We could wake up in each others arms every morning, and go to sleep in each others arms every night! That sounds like the perfect life if you ask me.” Bucky had presueded.

“I just like having the space. Besides, I’m here most days anyway.” You had countered.

“Exactly! All the more reason to just have you be here with me full time.” He had smiled that smile he knew killed you. It showed all his teeth and was accompanied with adoring eyes.

“You’re really telling me you don’t like to have space away from me?” You asked, doing your best to not fall victim to The Smile.

“Sweetheart, I never want space from you. If I could glue you to my hip, believe me I would.” His eyes had softened even more, if possible, as he set a hand to your cheek.

That’s when your touch hadn’t repulsed him. When it hadn't shot him to the other side of any room like he was your opposing magnet. You craved those days with all your being, and that only made you feel worse. You shouldn't let your own touch starved tendencies get in the way of Bucky getting better. And you wouldn't let them, which was part of the reason you were unlocking the door to your apartment. Another factor to your decision was that you didn't think Bucky would even want to see you, which was why you were so confused to see him sitting at the kitchen island.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, his voice sounding almost as his expression was.

“This is my apartment, shouldn't I be asking you that?” You said evenly.

Seeing him had given you the fast hope that maybe he had wanted to see you, but after he spoke you knew he in fact hadn’t. How could he have known you would show up here and not the Compound anyways?

“The Compound was too loud, needed to get out.” Bucky muttered, looking back down at his bowl of cereal.

“I can leave if you want?” You made a move to pick your bag back up, but Bucky stopped you.

“No! No, it’s fine. You won’t be loud or anything, I know that.”

You nodded mutley and slowly walked into the kitchen. You kept your movements long and languid, not wanting to bring on another episode, especially since no one was here to help you.

You reached the refrigerator and took out a water bottle, shutting the door as quietly as you could before cracking out the bottle and gulping in as much liquid as your throat would allow. Once you were done, with your back still to Bucky, he spoke.

“Steve told you, huh?” His voice was thick was disappointment.

Usually this would have shot you into nurturing overdrive, running around the island to pull him into your arms. Now you just turn to face him silently before murmuring a yes.

“You afraid of me now or something?” His broken expression made your heart shutter.

“No, I’m not scared. Just trying to be quiet.” You said, telling half the truth.

You weren't scared of him. You knew he would never intentionally hurt you, but he could without meaning too, if something like what took over him this morning happened. That, you were afraid of.

“You should be.” Bucky said, his expression hardening, “You should be afraid of me.”

You internally rolled your eyes, but couldn’t internalize the sigh that escaped your lips.

“What?” His head shot up.

“Nothing.”

“No what is it? Do you think what I said was stupid?” He challenged.

You tired to speak without emotion, but it was hard, “No, Bucky, I don’t think it was stupid. I just thought I had assured you a million times over that I am not, and have never been afraid of you.”

He used to chastise you for not being scared of him almost every day when you first started dating, apparently now that was resurfacing too.

“I have to ask! See if you’ve changed your mind! Come to your damn senses!” This was misplaced anger, you knew this. But it didn't make it hurt any less.

“I’m gonna go to bed.” You defeatedly said, not wanting to do this right now.

“Are you serious? Really?” He boomed.

“Yes, Bucky. Because I don’t know what to say! I don’t know how to help because apparently I was shit at that! So I’m stuck! You don’t want my help, but you need someone's help! But, I really don’t want to unpack all of this now! That’s why I said I was going to bed.” Your emotions were getting the best of you now.

“Oh, good! Go on, run along! See if I care!” You felt his anger through his voice, it hit every one of your nerve endings. If he was this tangibly mad, you couldn't imagine how angry he was inside.

“Why are doing this? Why are you picking a fight now?”

“I don’t know!” Bucky screamed through clenched teeth, “I don’t fucking know anything anymore! I don’t know what to feel, how I feel! I don't know what to think or how to anymore! I just don't fucking know!”

“Then tell me what to do! Tell me what to do to make this better, because it’s killing me to watch this, Buck! I just want to help but I’m a little out of my depth.” You tears had just dried and now new ones were spilling in their tracks.

“You think if I knew what was going on in my head, I would have told you? Have you been absent for this conversation and the last few weeks? I don’t know! I don’t know (Y/N) and you aren't helping! You can’t!” His words stung like venom as he advanced on you. And just like earlier, his words hung in the air. And just like earlier, you couldn't speak.

You just let tears fall from your eyes while looking at Bucky, face beet red with anger and a vein pulsing in his forehead.

He wouldn't hurt you. He just wouldn't.

“Just go. Ok? Please, I need to be alone.” Bucky abruptly spoke and turned away from you, stalking over to the couch.

“But,” You choked out, your voice lousy with sadness and need.

“Go, (Y/N).” Now all emotion, good or bad was gone.

You hovered by the door when you reached it, throwing a glance back to where Bucky had been by the couch, but he was gone, now looming somewhere else in your little two bedroom.

**

You had always loved New York in the winter. With Christmas just around the corner, the lights that littered the city were magically. They usually illuminated merry tidings, exensioated the first dusting of snow, and shed light onto exposed flesh, tinted pink. But now they just followed you like reminders of happy memories, better times and stupid fucking Christmas specials. They were ruining your somber walk, where they would usually captivated you with their simple beauty.

The chill of late November wasn't doing you the good you had hoped. It wasn't shocking you into any realizations or motivating you to make a plan of action. It was just freezing you to the bone while you continued to be forlorn and confused. It was when your feet started to ache, still trapped in your heels from work, that you decided that being forlorn and confused was one thing, but being forlorn, confused and in physical pain was another. You seeked out the first bench you could find and collapsed. It was weird, but the first time that day you felt your shoulder relax, even if a little, was when you sat on that shitty public bench. If that didn't tell you things at home were bad, you weren't sure what would.

You slipped your heels out of your shoes and massaged them with gloved fingers the best you could. While preoccupied with bringing life back to your feet, you didn’t notice an elderly woman approach.

“May I sit?” Her small voice asked.

Glancing up to her you gave a curt nod.

You continued your efforts to save your feet, when she spoke again.

“Thirsty?” Again, you glanced up, this time to see her holding a thermas and two small matching cups.

“What is it?” You eyed the thermas questioningly.

“Cocoa.” She smiled, already pouring you a cup.

You probably shouldn't have been taking drinks from strange old women on city benches, but she seemed harmless and you really needed a pick me up. You just wanted to feel warm and happy, even if a drink was what provided that.

“Thank you.” You said, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips.

You had to cover your cough when the drink hit your tongue.

“Irish cocoa, huh?” You huffed a laugh.

“You looked like you needed it.” She shrugged, taking a sip of her own.

You snorted, “Well, you’re not wrong.”

You both drank in silence, but when you moved your cup out for her to refill, she spoke up.

“So? Are you going to tell me why you’re out drinking with an old woman?” She raised an inquiring eyebrow your way.

“Hard night.” You said succinctly.

“Boyfriend trouble? Or girlfriend trouble, I don’t mean to assume.” She replied.

“Boyfriend trouble.” You affirmed.

She just raised her eyebrow again, telling you to continue.

“He was, uh, in the war,” She didn't need to know which war, “and was a POW. He brought a lot of what happened home with him, y’know?”

She nodded.

“I thought… fuck, I don’t know what I thought. Saying out loud that I thought he was better now sounds so naive and dim of me, I want to punch myself.” You laughed humorlessly.

“It’s just, he was better, for a long time. But now it’s worse than ever, and I don’t know what to do. I’m out of my league. He doesn’t want my help, and I feel so fucking useless.” You shrugged, your stupid tears coming back.

“Do you love him?” The woman asked.

“More than I ever thought I could ever love someone. So much that I feel like I should be writing sonnets about him, just to put all my lovesick thoughts to good use. So much that it hurts to be without him, even for a couple of hours. So much that I sometimes think that I was put on this Earth just to love him.” You exhaled shakily, wiping away as many tears as you could.

“Does he love you?”

“I think. I pretty sure I know, but who ever really knows, right?” You shrugged, trying not to sound as painfully insecure as you felt.

“Then I don’t see the problem.” After seeing your bewildered expression, she elaborated.

“You love him with everything you have, that’s all you can do, that’s all you can hope to do. If you love him as much as you say, you’re already trying your best. And if you see that you arent, I know you’ll make an adjustment to help in anyway that you can.” The old woman wisley spoke.

“What if my best isn't enough?” You spoke the best you could with your burning throat.

“If it’s truly your best, than it is. I know that love can’t heal all wounds, but it can be a hell of a pain killer for them. Supporting, caring and helping our loved ones with all we got is not for nothing. It’s got to do something.” She gave you a small smile, before nudging your hand to drink the rest of your cooling coca.

You finished off your helping, then she filled your little blue plastic mug again.

“War, PTSD, these are things you and I cannot fully understand, which means we can not fully help. But, directing your boyfriend to good people who do understand is better than kicking yourself for not understanding what goes on with him.”

You nodded. Her words, along with your spiked hot chocolate and finally, the late November air, was making the gears turn in your head.

You ended up finishing off the thermas with the kind, old, possible magic, old woman. When you had both finished your last drop, she began to silently pack up her things and stand. When you started to thank her profusely she just held up a withered hand to stop you.

She slowly brought the hand to touch your cheek, wiping away some new fallen tears and smiled at you with thin lips. Before you could say another word, she had turned and walked into the frosty New York night.

You left soon after she did, deciding to hail a cab this time around, taking pity on your poor feet.

**

When you unlocked the door to your place, you weren't surprised to find it silent. If Bucky did stick around, which you saw unlikely, he was probably locked away in the guest bedroom, stewing in anger and regret, something you hoped to talk about tomorrow with new clarity.

Finally ridding yourself of your high heels, winter coat and gloves, you walked to your couch and unceremoniously fell against the cushions. Exhaling a calming breath, you leaned your head back, willing and ready to turn your brain off.

“(Y/N)?” A fragile voice spoke from behind you.

Turning around, you were met with the sight of Bucky, eyes rimmed red and your bedroom’s comforter around his shoulders.

“Hey, I thought you’d be gone or asleep.” You said, still a little surprised to see him.

“I uh, I heard you come in and…” He never finished his sentence, he had fallen into tears before he could.

You jumped up from the couch and started towards him, but stopped yourself. Doing your best and loving him was waiting to see what he wanted from you, you only ever wanted you touch associated with love and warmth, far away from anything related to HYDRA. So you shifted you weight, it paining you to see him sob. 

“I’m sorry, baby, I just,” Bucky struggled to get out through his cries.

“Buck, baby, can I touch you?” You asked, his agony being too much to stand and watch.

He nodded rapidly and you launched towards him. He opened the blanket up just in time to receive you, wrapping you in his cocoon as you held him tightly.

“I’m sorry for what I said, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He muttered into your neck, gripping you closer with every apology.

“It’s ok, it’s alright, baby.” You cooed to him, running your fingers through his matted hair as gently as possible.

Bucky shook his head and tried to pull away, but you kept him plastered to you, something he was grateful for.

“But it wasn't ok. I shouldn't have yelled at you baby, I hate when I raise my voice, especially at you. I love you, I love you so fucking much I’m sorry.” Bucky nuzzled deeper into your neck, memorizing your scent.

“It’s ok, I forgive you. I forgive you, it’s alright, I promise.” You spoke with earnest.

Somewhere between tears and reassurances, you ended up on the floor. You on Bucky’s lap while his head was tucked underneath his chin.

Bucky quietly started opening up somewhere in there, too. He told you how terrified he’d been when you walked out the door, it had taken all the self control he had not to run after you the second the door clicked shut. The sound reverberated around his mind, reminding him he was the one pushing you away, when all he wanted was for you to hold his hand. He had toppled to the floor in a fit of tears, screaming in frustration. He just wanted to be better, why the hell wasn't it happening? When his hands stopped shaking and his breathing became less labored, Bucky dusted himself off and got his phone.

“I asked Sam to text me some links, and when he did I read over them. I know this has been hard and not just on me. I need to take responsibility for my recovery. It’s a full time job and I need to take it seriously if I want to get better, which I really fucking do.” Bucky spoke softly, sounding like he was quoting whatever post traumatic stress links Sam had sent.

“Something I read said that I should talk about my feelings, because isolating myself is one of the worst things I can do. And I should choose who I talk to very carefully, and it made me realize that the only person I want to talk to is you, baby. I’ve been fucking up, thinking that holding you at arms length would be better. It just made me feel worse and miss you so much. I’m so sorry, doll.” Bucky sniffled.

“Baby, it’s alright.” You placed a lingering kiss to his hair.

“But it’s not. You’re the most important person in the world to me. My first priority is to make sure you are happy and safe and loved. And I threw all three out the window.” His breathing pattern began to pick up.

“Bucky, all I want is for you to get better, that’s what’s going to make me feel happy, safe and loved,” You pulled him away from your chest gently, massaging his scalp lovingly when he whimpered, “You’re allowed to focus on yourself and focus on getting better. I just want you to be healthy.”

“Being healthy means not shutting you out, though.” Came Bucky’s quick retort.

“Yeah, you’re right.” You gave a soft smile and Bucky returned it.

“God, I missed your smile, baby.” His smile only grew as he spoke.

“I missed your too.” You followed his action.

Bucky’s eyes softened the longer he looked at you. He still wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve you. Placing both of his hands on your cheeks, happiness bloomed in his chest as you giggled at you his hands engulfed your face. Bucky didn’t think it was possible, but he felt himself fall even more in love with you. Another piece of his mangled heart was repaired and now held you insignia. One time, amidst a lovestruck evening of adoring gazes and emotional confessions, you’d told him that you thought you were put on this earth just to love him. The confession had been the first time that Bucky truly saw how much you loved him, and how you really were in this with him for the long haul. He’d kissed you with so much fervor and passion that he felt your knees give out as he held you in his arms.

After that night there was one thing Bucky knew, he in fact was brought onto this Earth to love you.

“I want to be better for you, baby. Better so I can go back to the big three.” Your grin widened at the way he said this.

“It’s ok to want to be better just for you to, y’know?” You grin fell, but not because you were sad, just serious.

“I know, and I do. I’m taking responsibility. And I’m doing it for both of us. I can do two things at once.” He chuckled.

Your grin was back, “I know, and I love you so much.”

Bucky felt butterflies erupt in him, “I love you so goddamn much.”

“And I’m really proud of you.”

Bucky gave you a watery smile before pulling you close to his chest, hoping you could hear the love his heart was emitting for you.

**Author's Note:**

> i really hoped you enjoyed! if so, think of leaving a kudo, comment or bookmark (:


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